Moon Knight
by Longershlong
Summary: Moonknight at his Finest.


Earth twenty twenty six

All he had left was five days. After that oxygen would be gone, and before that food and water. Though, Mr. Knight doubted he'd live that long anyway. The pressure was gaining fast as the submarine sunk through the layers of water. The strain against his lungs was growing; the gravity working against him. He was cold and quiet. His deep-sea coffin seemed to close around him, getting closer with each passing minute. They were taunting him a silent reminder that he had failed. Knight sat like the sub sinking in his own emotions. Flashes from a crimson light were the only movements inside.

A charred sigh escaped his lips. Both eyes were still bruised, in fact, it felt like his healing factor had depleted altogether. His ribs were still cracked, right arm broke, left hand just as battered as the counterpart, toes shattered and body riddled with cuts and shrapnel. He felt like hell. He had been through hell, and he prayed that wasn't where he was going. His chocolate hair was matted and covered with blood, while his suit lay in tatters. His tongue played with the empty spaces where teeth had been. He was alive, but maybe that was the worst part. Death offered closure and a sense of certainty. Living was the exact opposite, and any day longer was the worst option.

Knight decided he wouldn't wait the five days. There wasn't any one coming for him and the subs only direction was down. He shoved his back against the cool interior, his breath became shaky and jagged. A push from his legs sent him slowly up the wall and pain up his body. Instantly each bone in his ransacked skeleton had been stabbed with a hot wire. A groan of displeasure erupted as he inched like a worm wall. After a few painfilled minutes he stood.

A foot ventured out towards the dorm-sized kitchen. He limped like a man without a cane, endowed with unimaginable pain. Shuffling he made his way to the dish rack. A shaky hand began to wrap a finger around salvation. Pain followed. He held the knife. It was sharp. Sharp enough to get the job done. Knight stumbled. He reached out his free hand and caught the table. Knife still in hand. Just one swipe to the neck. Knight's neck. Then it'd be over. No more suffering; Just the end. His end. No more pain. Only one swipe. Slowly, he brought the knife to his neck. He pressed the cold blade against his bruised skin. Soon it'd be over. Just one swipe.

A month before his final kerfuffle Mr. Knight sat in the cockpit of the mooncopter, although it was called the moon copter it looked nothing like a helicopter . Instead it was in the shape of a crescent moon and was white just as white. He donned his white super suit, hood, cape, and lunar crescent. He was here to do what the Knight always did. He pratoled the city. Sure, New York was filled with a rogues gallery of heros, but Moon Knight liked to be sure that things were dealt with. Things like the Kingpins illegal endeavors.

Moon Knight flipped a few switches on the control panel, and the moon copter began to descend. A loud click came from the unbuckling of his seat, but no sound came from the moving of his feet. He threw the hood on his head, and made sure his utility belt was stocked. Then he cracked his neck and tapped his 30sf glock. More buttons were pressed with his glove cover hands. While he waited to initiate his usual plans. The copper did stop mid way in the sky. Then he leaped from the hanger, and justice was nigh.

He cut threw the air like a knife through butter, longing to embrace a criminal with his fist. The buildings he glided past where filled with color. Windows on a spectrum, some clear, some grey, some black, every color wanted to greet the world back. Lights left on in the occasional office made him even planer to see. Moon knight tilted his body to the left, gaining speed and turning the world into a scene inspired by a impressionist painting. He whizzed past a few london plane trees, and he continued whis flight with a right.

After locating the building Mr. Knight collapsed his wings and rolled to the ground. His white suit and hood added a purity to the grey asphalt. The building stood fifty eight stories tall and matched the hues of the asphalt. This was where he lived, William Fisk the KingPin.

Moon Knight began a casual walk to the entrance. He was here to finish business and close a corporation. William Fisk had gotten reckless after his big accomplishment. He had become more ruthless and held a tighter grip on New York city while even establishing his own foreign and interstate mafia. As he got closer a doorman in black and gold could be seen, his colors resembled the golden rotating doors of the establishment and the bold black letters of Fisk-Industry.

Upon seeing him the door man was confused. Mr.Fisk assured the staff they wouldn't be having any more interference from the masked vigilante. Yet walking towards him was one in white, admittedly a lot quieter than the original but even more so intimidating. Jeffrey had seen the movies and heard stories about hench getting murdered by a supposed savior, and he knew Moon Knight was exceptionally brutal. He shifted his weight knowing one way or another things wouldn't go his way. It wasn't the fear of Fisk or Mr. Night that filled him with dread. No, it was a more primal emotion Jeffery was afraid to die. He wasn't ready. Hell, he wasn't sure what was on the other side; or even if there was another side. Jeffery hadn't followed through with a religion or been saved. He was just a doorman. He knew if he stood in Moon Knights way he'd get killed, but if he ran he'd get killed. Sure, he could run from Fisk for a while but in the end he'd still find him. He was the King Pin after all.

Moon Knights hand went to his utility belt. He felt for for his darts, they were golden throwing crescent-darts shaped like scarabs and he was ready to finish off doorman. If he left any one alive he'd have to waste his time tracking them down, besides no one ever just ran. Or so Moon Knight believed, before the doorman took of towards the right cleary wanting nothing to do with him. Instead of just out right murdering him Moon Knight let the door man live. He understood people had families, but that was the only understanding he would be doing that night.

Fisk had just finished buttoning his new, all-white suit jacket with gold buttons, he stood in front of his mirror. He was barely paying attention to his buttons, due to the fact that all he'd been thinking about recently was Vanessa, and his revenge against Moon Knight. Barely, he noticed that the buttons were just the gold ones. He sighed, and opened his drawer, to look over the buttons he could use. The ones that he valued most, were the buttons his father had used back in his prime, they where blue and silver and the ones that Vanessa had picked out for him where a dark rose pink. He gave it a moment of thought, and put on the ones Vanessa would want him to ware.

He gave a slight smile, looking at them. Wilson took the gold buttons out, and gently placed blue and black ones in their place, and began to buttoning his jacket sleeves with the newly picked ones. Now... this suit looked like a to masterpiece and he stood proudly in the mirror.

After he was done, he headed to his office. Fisk took a seat in the room waiting for Wesley, his right hand man to hand him the information he requested. Ever since his victory Moon Knight had been giving him hell to pay. He had been used to inconveniences. The old inconvenience used to drive him mad but all that did was drive the inconvenience to the grave. Although Fisked loathed the web head, this Moon Knight was a different man. He killed, and that was always bad for morale and what not, but it was who he had killed. Moon Knight had had the audacity to take his vengeance not out on Fisk, but on Vanessa.

William balled his fist and began to cry. His wife and kids were gone. They were all that Fisk loved, and Moon Knight had taken them. Tears ran down his cheek dropping like drizzle onto the oak desk. He balled one of his gargantuan fist and struck the desk causing it to split in two. A scream of frustration, pain, and anguish escaped from him.He was alive, but maybe that was the worst part. Death offered closure and a sense of certainty. And William was sure if he killed Moon Knight his closure would come, but he needed he needed things clarified. This information would help him shatter the moon.

"Mr Fisk." Wesley entered his office, seeing his boss seated in his chair in a more professional matter his hands wrapped and arms laid on a split desk. "Here is the information you've needed... Marc Spector?" Wesley questioned, laying the files down on the bigger side of the desk.

Fisk smirked, and stood up from his seat. "Thank you, Wesley. You're always the right man for any job." He was proud of him, since these files, were very... detailed. Not just the ones you'd find in a police station. Wilson held his hands behind his back, standing very professionally and really showing his charisma. He looked down at the files, nodding his head more towards the right, fascinated. He looked at it with the look of a kingpin's interest.

Fifty eight stories below Moon knight, held a goon above his head and threw him into a chandelier. The priceless piece of gold and glass fell to floor covered in the blood of another vanquished in the name of Khonshu, the egyptian moon god.

From behind the check in desk two police officers hired by the Kingpin stood from the cover and began to shoot at the crusader. Bangs were held as there triggers were pulled and sounds like wind chimes as there bullets fell to the grey tile floor.

His superhuman strength allowed him to dodge both guns fire with ease ducking and dodging when need until he had flipped over a table, and hid behind it.

The officers took this retreach as a sign of weakness, keeping their glock-17's raised high they moved towards the table filled with the high that is determination.

Moon Knight reached into his belt once again and pulled out his scarab shaped darts. This time he was determined to use them.

The two officers stood to the left of no man's land and Moon knight to the right. The tension was raised covering the atmosphere like a fog of pea soup. The last two officers names where Mike and Beth. Thirteen had died because of Moon knight. Thirteen of their friends and colleagues. Thirteen people that they had seen every day for the past twenty five years of their lives. Thirteen people they'd never get to see again.

The female police officer turned on her walkie talkie. The buzz filled the quiet room.

"We're gonna need back up in the main lobby! Tell Fisk, the Knights here." she reported into the talkie.

"Over and out." replied an exhausted voice.

"KNIGHT!" screamed the enraged males officer. "KNIGHT STAND UP! I WANT TO SEE YOUR BODY FALL TO THE FLOOR WHEN I SHOOT YOU!"

The knight was silent.

"ALWAYS HIDING NIGHT! FUNNY YOU'D COME DRESSED IN WHITE!"

The female officer stood silently.

"WHY IS THAT? WHY DO YOU WHERE WHITE?"

Still no response came from the lunar Knight.

"ANSWER ME YOU SON OF A BITCH! ANSWER ME!"

Instead of waiting for back up the officer shot at the table. Shooting every bullet the glock held, shooting slurs, swears, and anger.

When he was done the female lowered her own firearm and patted her comrade on the back.

"It's okay John. We got him and-"

Her words were cut off by a scarab shooting through her throat. Just as fast as that one had left another entered her heart, and like a lifeless piece of clay she fell to the ground.

The moon rose in the room filling it with dread and despair. " I don't wear white to hide myself. I wear it so you'll see me coming." he explained as he began walking to the fear ridden officer. "So you'll know who it is. 'Cause when you see the white, it doesn't matter how good a target I am." another scarab flew through the air and into the heart of the last protectors of the first floor. "Their hands shake so bad, they couldn't hit the moon."


End file.
